Here We Remain
by frankielouwho
Summary: After the prison falls, Daryl vows to protect Beth. He couldn't save her father - making sure she lives is a promise he's determined to keep. No matter how annoying, stubborn, and beautiful she is... BETHYL. Post Mid-Season Finale. Angst, Smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Here We Remain**

**by: FrankieLouWho**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Walking Dead, except for some comics. But that doesn't count, right?**

**Author's Notes: Hey, guys. I know I've been majorly slacking when it comes to my stories and updating, but I've hit a patch of writer's block. Sad, but true. Happens to the best of us. I took down 'To Infinity' because, to be quite honest, it was shit. It wasn't up to my usual standards and it wasn't worth your guys' time. I rushed it, because it was what people were asking for, but it just wasn't working. I wasn't inspired, I wasn't really interested. Writing a story with no sex is about as fun as a root canal. So, I WILL be working on a sequel to WOAA... But it's not going to be Lizzie/Carl centric. Sorry, they're just to difficult to write on their own!**

**Anyway, this new endeavor is a bit of an angst piece. Set directly after the mid-season finale, it follows Daryl and Beth as they are forced to grow closer and rely on eachother. It's a character-driven story, and there will definitely be SMUT. So I hope you guys will like it! Please review and let me know your feelings on all of the above statements. I'd greatly appreciate it :]**

It was hot. Beth Greene leaned her forehead against the smudged glass window, her eyes drooping closed. It had been hard to sleep in this new place, harder than she would have imagined after all those months they spent on the road. Usually, in those days, she would be asleep before her head hit the pillow. In the quiet darkness of the small hunting lodge that she and Daryl had taken residence in, curled up on the double bed that he insisted she take, it was impossible to get any rest. Sure, she would slip in and out of heavy, dreamless sleep. But it was never restful, and it was never peaceful. Her body would jerk awake suddenly, after a few scant moments, and she would be awake again for long stretches of time. The worst part was the quiet, as Daryl Dixon was king of silence. There was no distraction, nothing to stop her racing thoughts. Most of the time, nothing canceled her tears except for her own will power. The majority of the time it was enough.

It had been four long days. Days that seemed endless, nights that seemed even longer. In the sunlight, Daryl would disappear for hours on end. Beth knew he was out there looking for signs of the group, though he always came back with some meat. They were close enough to prison that he could make a trip there and back before sun down, and usually he returned with a neutral expression and a carcass of some animal for her to cook. It was a good thing she had worked so much in the kitchen Carol, and Lori before everything had happened. They'd probably starve if not for the skills that she had learned from both women.

They rarely spoke. Except for the daily "good morning," the occasional "find anything?" and the odd statement about weather or walkers, the silence overwhelmed her. Beth had never been like the other girls her age - at least, that's what she was told. She was an observer, a fly on the wall taking it all in. Jimmy had enjoyed the fact that she didn't fill up their companionable silences with idle chatter. Zach had told her that because she spoke so little, the words that _did_ come out of her mouth held more weight. Both times Beth had blushed, taking the compliments to heart. It was always nice to hear that she was unique, that she was _different_, that she was special.

She wasn't hearing anything like that from _him_, though. Beth yearned for social interaction, her depressing, grief stricken thoughts getting trapped and bouncing around in her mind. Daryl was even less of a talker than _she_ was. Not that she had expected anything less. Beth knew better than that - Daryl Dixon was a man of the wilderness. The quiet evenings spent around the fireplace, Beth would study him. Always from a safe distance, always when he wasn't paying attention to her. There was a small shelf of books that held a wide variety of books, mostly classics. She was struggling to get through Moby Dick, but the language was just off. It was a good enough cover to do her staring, however. From over the tops of the pages, Beth would peer at him with curious, guarded blue eyes.

He was a wild man. Filthy, covered in grime and dirt and blood. His dark brown hair was limp with grease, falling into his face in wispy tendrils. His beard was scratchy-looking, speckled with gray. His tan skin stretched over high cheekbones, and his nose was slightly long and flanked by under-eye bags. However, Beth was surprised to realize that in the firelight his eyes were not simply _blue_. They were an intense, piercing kind of shade that reminded her of swimming pools. From behind her boring book, Beth had watched him, studied him, and found that those blue eyes were the most interesting thing about him. Other than his lips, which were a bit on the thin side but somehow appeared to look soft and somehow inviting, that is. She pretended to ignore the lips and focus on those eyes.

But after four days of silence and studying and avoiding thoughts of what had happened to them, Beth was exhausted. There was a steady pounding in her head, a throbbing behind her eyes and at the base of her skull, and her bones felt weary. The lack of activity, being stuck inside nearly twenty-four-seven, having no one else to speak to... It was quickly driving Beth to the brink of insanity. She was determined to speak to him today, however. Leaning her head against the glass, watching, waiting, Beth knew they couldn't co-exist in this miniscule universe without becoming friends. Or, at the very least, having a semblance of social interaction.

Her eyelids were drooping, feeling as though there were weights attached. Beth was dozing when the door thwacked open, smacking into the wall and causing her to jerk in surprise. Scrambling to her feet, Beth watched with wide, startled eyes as Daryl sidled into the cabin. Somehow, just his presence seemed to make the log walls jump apart, seeming bigger and more interesting. It wasn't much, but Beth had grown accustomed to more than four simple walls around her. There was a double bed pushed into one corner, a bear-skin run on the floor. A big stone fireplace was the centerpiece of the room, and a small kitchen was tucked into the corner. There was an out-house, thankfully, only a few feet behind the building. In the days before, Beth wouldn't have counted herself so lucky about that - but it beat doing her business out exposed in the woods...

"Nothin'," Daryl said, by way of greeting. Beth nervously wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans, watching as the man flopped onto the couch that he had taken over as his own. It was one of those seventies plaid numbers, terribly uncomfortably looking. Whenever Beth suggested they switch, that he take the bed, Daryl would roll his light blue eyes towards the cieling and ignore her. It was infuriating.

"Anything at the prison?" Beth asked. Her voice was filled with hope, and something flickered across Daryl's face at her tone. Their eyes held for the briefest of moments before he tore his gaze away, shaking his head.

"Nothin' there, neither." Scrubbing his hands over his face, Daryl sighed. She could tell that he was tired, too. Probably even more exhausted than Beth was - but he pushed on, determined to keep them alive, determined to survive. She would have laughed, a million years ago before all of this happened, at the idea of some back-woods hick keeping _her_ alive. Shaking her head, Beth turned to the window again. They were out there, somewhere - she could feel it in her bones. Perhaps not all of them. The odds were against them, but they were a big group. Surely, some of them would still be out there. Trying to find each other.

"We should go." The sound of her own voice surprised her, mouth working before her mind could register. Glancing over her shoulder, she found Daryl watching her. He was so good at that calm mask he wore all the time - indifferent, revealing nothing of the goings-on inside of his mind. Beth wasn't dumb enough to believe that he wasn't constantly thinking, vigilantly planning. She had lived with this man - no matter how distantly - for two years. It didn't take that long, in such close quarters, to understand how a person worked. Daryl was every part the careful and skilled hunter/tracker. He was thoughtful, he was clever, and most of all, he was in control. These qualities bolstered her confidence in the man's ability to keep her alive. But, Beth also realized in the same amount of time that it took her to gather this other intelligence, the man was seriously lacking in the whole interpersonal skills department.

_Understatement of the year_, Beth thought, as she gazed at his shrouded expression.

"We should be out there, looking for them. Glenn is sick, he could be worse - and who knows what happened to Rick." Beth glanced down at her hands on the windowsill, surprised to find her knuckles white as she clenched the dark wood. She released it, shaking out her hands and turning her back to the windows. "Maggie is out there. We have to find them -" Tears sprang into her eyes, stinging. Beth swallowed against the lump in her throat. It was one thing to cry at night. Most of the time, she woke up that way, wet tears streaking down her cheeks - she couldn't control that. But to show this weakness, this vulnerability in front of Daryl in broad daylight... Well, she refused. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Beth tried to calm herself.

"We're better stickin' round here," Daryl said gruffly. "Ain't gonna do no good chasin' each other 'round out there. When you're lost in the woods, what do they tell you?" He was seriously asking her, leaning forward on the ugly, orange plaid, seventies' couch. Beth rolled her eyes - she didn't want to play question games with him. Not now, when they were actually speaking, finally about something that mattered.

"I don't know." Beth's voice was barely a whisper.

"They tell ya ta stay put," Daryl replied, wryly. "Ya stay put so others can find ya."

"So? We stay put, more than just our people are going to find us." Beth knew she was pressing her luck - she could see the tension in his shoulders and arms, muscles jumping, fists clenching. "Other people. Walkers. We could have a herd pass by at any time, and we're out in the middle of nowhere with next to no supplies, three guns with dwindling ammo... What are we going to _do_, Daryl?" The tears were here, in full force, and all Beth could do was try not to sob.

"We'll... figure it out." He glanced to the ground again, seemingly fascinated in the intricate grains in the wood.

_We'll figure it out._ The words bounced and echoed in her brain. A sarcastic bark of laughter left her chest, and Beth shook her head. This was his idea of comfort? Was that what he was going for? It certainly wasn't working, wasn't nearly enough. Less than a handful of days ago, her father had been beheaded by a mad-man that wanted to steal their _home_. Their sanctuary. Hershel Greene had been a good man, the best man. Losing him was a kick to the gut that Beth wasn't sure she would recover from.

"Do you even care, Daryl?" The tone in her voice was bitter and cruel, but she didn't care. Beth had been holding it together, holding it in, and the dam had suddenly burst. Tears tracked down her dirty, pale cheeks, and her eyes seemed to burn from the salty water.

"Excuse me?" Daryl asked. Beth glared at him through her tears. He stood, and she could tell that he was restraining himself. His hands were balled into fists, tense at his sides, and his chest was rising and falling quickly. Anger flashed in those piercing blue eyes, and Beth was suddenly nervous from their intensity. In three quick paces, he had crossed the room and was standing in front of her, closer than he'd ever come to her before. With bravery she hadn't known she posessed, Beth stood straighter and lifted her chin, staring right back at him with a flush of anger working up her chest and neck.

"You don't talk about it. You don't say a _goddamn_ thing," Beth hissed. "My father died, Daryl! Others could be dead, too! But you don't _do_ anything!"

"You think I don't know Hershel died?" Daryl asked, leaning closer still until their faces were mere centimeters apart. "You think that I don't _know_ that they're out there, that they could be hurt or dead or hungry or scared? You think I don't know that, Beth?" He was getting riled up, angrier by the second, and his voice quivered with emotion. Beth wondered if she should have dropped the subject when she had the chance, but knew deep inside that they needed to have this conversation. The elephant in the room was finally acknowledged. Hopefully, they would come out the other end of this better off. "Just 'cause I ain't talkin' about it, 'cause I'm not bitchin' and cryin' at night about it... Don't make me not _care_."

"I shouldn't have said that," Beth said. She willed her voice to be steady and strong. "I just don't get why you don't _talk_ -"

"Talkin' 'bout it ain't gonna bring yer daddy back. Don't bring nobody back, girl." Daryl stiffened, took a step back. "I know it's... hard on you. But ya gotta be strong."

The silence stretched between them. Images of her father sprang into her mind, and Beth could no longer push them away, to be thought about later when she was tucked soundly into the bed. He wasn't a saint, not if you asked _him_ - but in Beth's eyes, her daddy had always been strong, indestructible. Even after the end of the world, when people that were dead rose and began to walk the earth and eat other humans... Beth had taken for granted that Hershel would always be there. There were a few instances, some reminders... But it had been so long, and they had been doing so well. Until the flu hit, she had lived under the impression that they were rebuilding lives together. That they were safe in the prison, behind the fences and the stone walls. It had all crumbled around her, and Beth couldn't seem to put the pieces back together.

"He's _dead_," Beth whispered. She missed Daryl's softening expression, the tension that flowed out of his shoulders as he sagged. She didn't seen his baby-blues drift over her, watching uneasily as sobs began to wrack her slender frame. She wrapped her arms around her middle, bending over as the air was sucked from her lungs. "Dead - dead - _dead -_" Over and over, she gasped the words as her chest heaved and tried to pull in oxygen. She couldn't breathe.

He studied her for brief moment, confused and unsure, before placing his palms flat on her shoulders. They were so slender and delicate beneath his big, dirty hands. Shaking the thought off, Daryl began to spoke in quiet, hushed tones - like he would speak to a frightened animal. "Breathe, Beth. Ya gotta calm down. It's ok." He rubbed circles into her skin, watching as her breathing slowed, then became even. When her blue eyes finally flicked up to meet his, Daryl nearly stumbled backwards. The broken, sad look in them was completely disarming; beautiful. He didn't like it.

"I'm sorry," Beth said in a raspy voice. She took a shuddering breath, before taking them both by surprise. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the leather of his vest. Once pressed against him, she realized her faux pas - they'd only hugged like this before, under similar but _such_ different circumstances. Instead of pulling back, she clung to him tighter. Awkwardly, Daryl put a hand between her shoulder blades, the other hanging limp at his side. Beth didn't know if it made him feel better, but in that moment, it was the most comforting thing she could do. She clung to him tightly, soaking up as much as she could from the physical contact. Who knew how long it would be before she felt another person again.

_**Every review, follow, and favorite is SO MUCH APPRECIATED. Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Here We Remain**

**by: FrankieLouWho**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, I swear.**

**Notes: Hey guys! Thank you for checking out the second installment of 'Here We Remain.' I'm not super pleased with this chapter, but it's the best that I can get it so here we are. I hope you forgive any spelling mistakes, I don't have a Beta and though I've read through a few times, they always seem to slip through regardless. I hope you'll take the time to read my new story, Blue Velvet, which I'm thoroughly excited about. I haven't been so excited about a story since I started writing WOAA, and I seem to have captured that lightning in a bottle again (I wrote four chapters in like six hours so yeah). Anyway, enough with my rambling and shameless self-promotion. On with the story!**

**2**

Daryl was stiff as the girl's arms wrapped around his middle. It felt like a rubber-band was wrapped around his chest, like he couldn't draw in enough breath. He knew that he should react better, but it was hard. Forcing a hand between her shoulder blades, he counted in his head and forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. The rare instances where he allowed people to touch him were always difficult, but he knew that she needed this. It was like that time he came to her cell, to tell her about Zach and what happened at the Big Spot... It was the first time in a long time that anyone had hugged him. And she was doing it again, a week and a half later.

After she calmed down a bit, Daryl pushed her away as gently as he could - which wasn't saying much. But Beth was distracted, wiping at the tears and smudging the dirt on her face. They had a bit of water - he decided they could spare some - and Daryl found yanked his clean-ish red handkerchief out of his back pocket and opened a half-full bottle of water, getting it damp and handing it to her.

"Thanks," Beth said. Her voice was raspy with emotion, and she carefully wiped down her face. Daryl watched with wary eyes, unsure if she was going to burst into tears again. Emotions made him uncomfortable - his own feelings, and those of others. Especially when they were so out in the open. He couldn't fault her, though - they'd all been through so much in the past two weeks, it was amazing they were still sane enough to get by.

Hershel's death had been the first in a very long time that cut Daryl to his core. The violence of it, the ceremony the Governor had set up - it was twisted. Having his daughters witness his murder, their whole fucking group. Daryl's gut clenched at the memory, of Maggie and Beth's heartbroken screams of terror and fear. Hershel was like the glue that held their group together. He was their moral compass, he was their Christian strength. The man was a goddamn saint, a tough son of a bitch. Daryl had so much respect for him - Hershel would never completely fill the gap that his own father had left in his heart, but the man did a good job of showing him what a father was supposed to be. How his life _could_ have been, if his father had quit drinking and taken care of the family...

"I'm sorry," Beth said, again. Daryl simply shrugged, unsure of what words to use to reassure her. It was all so foreign to him - even when he was her age, Daryl hadn't been big with the ladies. Relationships, sex, _women_ - it was all unknown. He was a fucking forty-year-old virgin. The idea of having someone touch him was so terrifying that he avoided the entire ordeal his whole life, and now it was the end of the world. No woman was going to want him now...

Immediately, Daryl thought of Carol and the time she jokingly suggested they screw around. He'd snorted, and they both got a laugh. Maybe he wanted to, he didn't fucking know. But it was easier to say no than to embarass himself and complicate their relationship further. Didn't know how to make love, didn't know how to please a woman like that. Wasn't no point in trying.

"They're out there," Daryl said. Beth nodded, though the look on her face was not entirely convinced.

Later that evening, after Beth crawled into bed, Daryl sat up by the fire. He had put together a few more bolts for his crossbow, and was poking at the fire to keep it going. It wasn't entirely necessary, as the nights were still quite warm, but it felt better with the firelight dancing on the walls than without. If Beth woke up in the night, it made Daryl feel better to think that she wouldn't awaken to complete darkness. He wasn't sure why.

Crawling onto the couch, he laid back and folded his arms behind his head. It had been a long day - emotions always managed to make him feel drained. Much more than trekking through the woods for hours, or fighting off walkers. He closed his eyes, listening to the pop and crackle of the fire, and felt himself drifting into sleep.

It was only a short time later when he woke to the sound of screams.

Jolting upright, fighting the groggy 'where am I' thoughts, Daryl whipped his head around wildly. Beth was screaming in her sleep, limbs flailing and tangled in the sheets. Jumping to his feet, thinking of the walkers that were surely within hearing distace, he rushed to her bedside. For a moment, he hesitated - hands frozen over her sleeping form, unsure of how to proceed. Was he supposed to wake her? How was he going to do that? Taking a deep breath, irritation beginning to heat his blood, Daryl pinned her wild limbs to the bed.

"Beth," he hissed, barely above a whisper.

Instantly, her eyes flew open. Scared, big blue eyes peered up at him through wet eyelashes, and her breath hitched in surprise. He let go of her, the warmth of her body making his palms tingle - not unpleasantly, but in a way that still made him uncomfortable. She sat up, the blanket pooling at her small waist. The tank-top she wore to sleep in was thin, white, and Daryl could make out the puckered points of her nipples through the barely-there material. He dragged in a ragged breath before tearing his eyes away, feeling blush on his cheeks. Hopefully, she was bewildered enough not to notice.

"I had a nightmare -" Beth started, before the tears came again. Daryl resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn't control the groan that rumbled from his throat. He didn't want to do this again - why couldn't they go back to her pretending _not_ to cry in the middle of the night, and him pretending not to hear it? "I had a dream that you left me."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he sank to the mattress and Beth pulled her knees up to her chest, blocking the obscene state of her chest. "D'you really think I'd leave you here?"

"No," Beth said, too quickly. Daryl glared at her for a moment, watching as her cheeks turned pink with embarassment. "I mean, I know you wouldn't just leave me... No matter how annoying I am."

Daryl huffed in response. Where'd she get that idea? It wasn't really even that she was annoying - it was his complete lack of knowledge in how to deal with her. She was a young girl, she was sensitive. She needed comfort and affection, and Daryl had never recieved these things in his entire life. He had no clue on how to go about giving her that. Honestly, he'd never felt so ill-equipped in his whole life. When it came to killing the walking dead, hunting down game in the woods, working on cars, taking care of babies... There were a lot of things that Daryl Dixon _did_ know how to do, and he could do them well. But caring for an emotionally fragile eighteen year old girl? Might as well ask him to embroider a sweater or perform brain surgery. He had _no idea_.

"It just - it was the first dream I've had, since..." She trailed off, and he sighed. "I guess I'm just scared, is all."

Daryl scrubbed his hands over his face. He was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. He was in dire need of fresh clothing, a shower, and a nice cold beer. He'd never been much of a drinker, only occasionally when Merle would drag him to some smokey, dank, dark bar when the inspiration struck him. It was rare because Merle thought of Daryl as a "downer," as the man didn't chase skirts or pick fights. Positively _boring_. But this night, Daryl thought a little alcohol would make things easier.

"I know yer scared," Daryl said, after a few long moments of silence. He gave Beth a side-long glance, but she was staring at her knees and picking at stray strings on the blanket. "But I ain't leavin' ya, and I ain't gon' let nothin' happen to you."

Glancing up, Daryl was struck for the millionth time just how pretty she was. There was an air of innocence to her, no matter what horrors she had been through. The round cheeks and big eyes gave her that young appearance, and the surprising amount of trust in that vulnerable gaze made his breath catch in his throat. She had only been sixteen when the Atlanta group took up on their farm. She'd lost two boyfriends, she told him she didn't cry anymore. But here they were, in the middle of the night. Under any other circumstances, Daryl would have found it inappropriate. Young girl like her, old piece of shit redneck like him? They were an odd couple, undoubtedly.

"Thank you," Beth said, sincerely. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, before turning even redder.

"What?" Daryl asked, his suspicion piqued.

"Wouldyousleepwithme." It was all one rushed word, and Daryl wasn't sure what she said. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she groaned before covering her face with her small hands. "It's just - whenever I have nightmares, I have Judith to cuddle with me. And before that, I used to sneak into bed with Maggie - Glenn used to get _real_ mad... I just hate sleeping alone."

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head firmly. "Ain't a good idea." His heart was thudding in his chest with panic. He would never be able to sleep beside her. Anything could happen, and the worst being her touching him in her sleep. Goosebumps rushed over his skin, and he shivered anxiously. Wasn't anything worse than someone touching him.

"Please," Beth breathed. "At least until I fall asleep? Please, Daryl." She crawled onto her knees, putting her hands together like she was praying. The fear, the insecurity, the pleading on her face - Daryl knew that he couldn't resist. Poor girl had been through so much - he could at least sit up in bed with her until she finally fell asleep. Then he'd go back to the couch and pretend it never happened. Never speak or think of it again.

"Fine," he sighed. "But just 'til you fall asleep." A little smile graced her face, and Daryl knew that putting aside his uneasiness was the right choice. Such a small smile, but it was a big step in the right direction. It made the uncomfortable weight that settled in his stomach - also known as _dread_ - sufferable. He pulled himself to the edge of the opposite side of the bed, awkward as hell. Beth settled herself under the blankets, rolling onto her side to face him.

"Daryl," she said, after perhaps a full minute of silence. Sighing loudly, Daryl cast her a tired look and she took that as a sign to go on. "Do you believe in heaven?"

His initial response was hell no. Because if there was a heaven, there had to be a God. And if there was a God, Daryl had a few choice words for him. Putting all these people - these innocent children, people like Hershel and the rest of the group that were nothing but good to their core - deserved so much more than the death and decay and the monsters they turned into.

"Hershel would be there, if it does exist," Daryl said, instead of giving his opinion.

"With my momma," Beth agreed. "And everyone else." He didn't need to see her to hear the tears in her voice. He wasn't going to touch her, not when they were both lying in this bed that was suddenly far too small. There was a full foot between them, but Daryl felt suffocated. Trapped. "When I was a little girl, Daddy told me that the stars were holes in heaven that the angels poked so they could watch us all down here. So they could keep tabs on us, watch over us."

Daryl smirked. Sounded like something the old farmer _would_ say. Instead of commenting, he settled more comfortably into the bed and stared up at the log cieling. "Try'n get some sleep now," he told her. Glancing to his right, he found Beth's eyes drooping shut, a small smile on her lips. Daryl would wait a while until her breathing evened out, until he was sure she was asleep. Then, he would leave the comfortable warmth of the bed and return to the old, rock-hard couch. Sighing quietly, Daryl let his eyes shut. They were so heavy... Wouldn't hurt to rest them until he was sure Beth was asleep.

A handful of minutes later, they were both soundly asleep. Daryl didn't flinch as Beth's small hand inched over the blankets and wrapped around his wrist, unconciously anchoring them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here We Remain**

**by: FrankieLouWho**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Promise.**

**3**

Daryl hadn't slept so heavily, so restfully in months. The exhaustion of the past days, probably since the night before the Big Spot run, he'd been running on adrenoline. It wasn't like it was easy to sleep after that. Losing Zach, the weird moment he'd had with Beth in her cell after delivering the news... The next morning, that geeky kid with the glasses had died and turned and massacred cell block C. And after that, Daryl had gone on the road with Michonne, Bob, and Tyreese. God, there was so much shit going on before the Governor came and interrupted their world. It wasn't peaceful, but the tenuous stability they'd had in the prison was monumental to Daryl. Keeping everyone together, and alive, had been the most important thing to him and to Rick. They had their silent kind of agreement, long ago, and on one sunny afternoon, it was all trashed.

Sighing, Daryl reached both hands to scrub the sleep from his eyes, but realized that something was pinning his right wrist to the bed. There was a split second of confusion before his heart began to pound in his chest, and his breath came in short pants. Dragging his panicked eyes to the limb, he saw the tiny pale hand of Beth Greene wrapped around him. She was asleep; he heard the even, light breathing and found her eyes shut and her lips parted. Maybe she'd reached for him in her sleep, needing some kind of tangible comfort - but it didn't negate the fact that Daryl wasn't comfortable with the contact. Gracelessly, he yanked his hand from her grasp and flew from the bed, across the cabin to the opposite end. He watched her sleeping form as he caught his breath.

Damn, but that girl was going to be the death of him.

They were fairly well protected out in the secluded Georgia wilderness. Daryl hadn't seen a walker near the property in the days that they had spent there, but suspicion and paranoia were two heavily embedded feelings in his bones. It was only a matter of time before something happened here to shake their feelings of comfort. It was _only_ ever a matter of time, these days. Shaking his head and running a hand through is greasy brown locks, the redneck took stock of their situation. He'd been trying not to for the past few days, hoping against all odds that they would be reunited with their people before he had to make any kind of a plan. It had been five days - he couldn't sit here, playing house with the little girl, waiting, forever.

Daryl traipsed to the front porch, sitting in one of the old, creaking rocking chairs that flanked the door. It was peaceful and quiet outside, the sound of animals - maybe walkers, too - crunching over the ground and disturbing the leaves in trees overhead. Immediately, he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders and the fire that burned around his wrist, making it feel as though Beth was still clinging to him, started to dissipate. Simply being outdoors was always soothing to him. Less trapped.

They needed to move on. There wasn't much in any direction - Daryl had been miles around in every direction, and they weren't too far from the prison still. If it wasn't overrun with walkers, he would have considered going in and ransacking their supplies. They'd had enough to feed themselves and the Woodbury folks, they had water... Frustration tinged his thoughts as he invisioned all of the walkers he'd seen, ambling around their home. Their fucking _home_.

They needed a vehicle, gasoline, and some supplies to keep them on the road until they found something - or someone. Their people. Beth's words reverberated in his mind, accusing him again. That was how it always was - Daryl knew that he brought it on himself. If he opened up and spoke his mind, if he let people in, Beth wouldn't have said those things. But it was impossible. Letting people in meant pain, meant getting hurt - and hadn't he had enough of that in his life? Shaking his head, loathing his self-pity, he refocused his thoughts on what needed to be done. That was his expertise.

They'd go today. Taking the girl to the prison wasn't high up on his list of ideal activities. She wasn't a fighter, wasn't strong and aggressive like Maggie. She was rarely put into danger, if it could be avoided, it was. But it was too damn bad - getting stuck with him meant she'd have to man up. There was no _avoiding_ a fight with Daryl Dixon. He was a man that attacked things head on, and Beth was going to have to adjust her delicate sensibilities if she was meant to survive with him. He wouldn't throw her in to the walkers, but he wasn't going to keep her tucked away. He needed help, and Daryl knew that they both wanted the same thing. She'd have to help him if they were going to do this.

Decision made, Daryl stood and headed back into the cabin, finding Beth puttering around the small kitchen as she made a small breakfast for them with what they had. Sharing cans of soup and eating stale granola bars was keeping them together now. She gave him a weak smile, cheeks rapidly turning pink, and Daryl smirked as he took the offered food. He flopped onto the couch, digging in to the luke-warm soup - Italian Wedding, judging by the contents - and pretended not to feel Beth's dark-blue gaze sweep over him. She was doing that a lot more, and it was unsettling. Something in her eyes made him uneasy. Daryl suspected that she saw far more than any of them had given her credit for.

Once he finished his soup, ignoring the distate as he needed the sustenance, he wiped a hand over the back of his mouth and glanced to Beth. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping her breakfast and watching him over the rim of the bowl. Daryl resisted the urge to chastise her - another fight, more tears, possibly more of that _hugging_ business... He didn't have the time or the patience for that today. Instead, he swallowed the mean urge to ask her if she liked what she saw, or another igniting statement to get her to look away, and willed his usually tough demeanor to soften, just a fraction, to speak with her civilly. He might have gotten a good night's sleep, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggrivated.

"So, I was thinkin', and you were right." Daryl inwardly grimaced at his choice of words, especially when a shocked expression changed her face. Eyebrows raised, mouth open, Beth Greene blinked a few times and he took advantage of her silence and went on. "We should leave. We need to go to the prison, get a vehicle. Maybe try to get in and get supplies... Place is pretty run-over, lotta walkers. But we have to chance it."

Beth's jaw hinged, and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she thought it over. For some reason, Daryl liked the way she chewed her lips when she was anxious and thoughtful.

"I was right?" Beth asked, flicking her gaze back to Daryl. He rolled his eyes and nodded, reluctantly. A big smile spread over her face, lighting up her eyes, and for a moment he was rendered breathless. "Ok. We'll need to get as much ammo and more knives. Just in case. There's lots of food, we'll have to get that too..." She trailed off, and Daryl could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain. Quickly, she jumped up from the bed and threw her empty bowl in the sink and began to pull on her boots. Satisfied with her reaction - a little surprised as well, as Daryl had imagined that she wouldn't be so eager to throw herself into danger's open arms, he stood and put his empty dish away as well.

For a moment, Daryl realized that the petite blonde was a different person. He thought he knew Beth Greene, in the vague way that you know a person you live with. Like a roommate. He always counted on her sweet, sunny smiles, her high, pretty singing voice. She was kind, she was sheltered. But this Beth was much, much more than he had anticipated. She wasn't shying away from the fight that she had to know was coming. Aside from the previous day, she had only showed him a tough exterior, and Daryl was relieved to find it back in place. Shaking off his pleased surprise, he grabbed his bow from it's place near the door. Beth was tucking her pistol into the waistband of her dirty jeans, giving him a brief glimpse of the smooth pale skin of her lower back.

"Ya ready?" he asked. Beth nodded. "Let's go, then."

The sun was scorching today, and Beth swiped a hand over her forehead as sweat beaded her skin. She was going to get a burn today, but it was the least of her worries as she stood at the edge of the tree-line beside Daryl. It was hard to fathom what her eyes were seeing. The prison-yard had been filled with walkers when they first found it, but between the group they had been dispatched in a matter of minutes. The memory of that night, sitting around the campfire with her family, protected by the fences, was a good one. One of the _best_.

Now, in the bright sunlight, the number of walkers was astonishing. Beth couldn't help the surprised gasp at the sight - Daryl had given her a look of agreement. It wasn't easy for either of them to see. The tank was up by the stone walls, having plowed through the security fences, and the wide opening of twisted and broken chainlink was a big open door invitation to the dead. There had to be hundreds. Beth swallowed hard against the lump in her throat - it was as terrifying as it was sad. She sensed Daryl stiffen beside her as her eyes welled up with burning tears. Her knuckles gripped the big knife in her hand until they turned white, and she glanced at him.

"I want to kill everything." The hard edge to her voice was foreign to her ears, but Daryl just nodded his agreement.

"The very least, we gotta get my bike." Daryl pointed towards the Triumph, parked inside the fences. Beth blinked against the angry tears in her eyes until her vision no longer swam. The fire burning in her belly was good - she held onto it, knowing that it would cancel out the intense fear swimming in her veins. Adrenoline was pumping through her as well, and she shifted uncomfortably as Daryl spoke to her lowly. "Gotta take out as many as we can. If it seems like we can get inside, we do it. Ain't gon' be easy, girl."

"I know," Beth said, nodding. She knew it wasn't a jab at her - she tried to reassure him that she could do this, even if her inner-voice was colored with insecurity. Taking a deep breath, she started towards the prison, but Daryl's strong grip on her arm stopped as well as surprised her.

"The hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Um, going to the prison?" Beth replied, taken aback.

Daryl harrumphed and shook his head, drawing his bow in front of him. "Damn girl, can't just run in like that. Gotta go slow."

"We should cover ourselves in walker-blood. Like Rick and Glenn did." Beth perked up at her idea. "It'll be easier to get in undetected."

Daryl gave her a surprised smile but nodded. Glancing around, Beth saw the moment his eyes landed on the woman walker. She was a few feet away, but it was obvious that she wasn't a fighter. Half-naked and covered in black, dried blood, missing an arm, she was an easy target. He raised his bow and Beth watched the muscles in his arms as he lined the shot and took it. She didn't need to see the bolt land in the walker's head - as sure as the day was long, Beth knew he'd gotten it. Together, they jogged to the body and dragged it back to the tree-line. In the handful of days they'd been at the cabin, Beth had enjoyed the lack of walkers. The sound, the smell, the fear. Hovering over the dead body, she began to question the 'genius' idea she'd had. She didn't want to touch it.

"C'mon," Daryl said. She missed the mischevious twinkle in his eye before he reached into the decayed corpse, slinging guts and blood over the front of her. Beth gasped and froze, her eyes glancing down her body and mouth twisting in disgust.

"You - did you -" She couldn't even get the words out. Nostrils flaring, she reached in blindly with both hands and dragged the warm innards of the walker onto Daryl's chest. She ignored the hard muscles beneath her hands as she smeared blood and guts over his body.

"Think you're cute, huh?" Daryl asked. Somehow, in the mad world they lived in, he was laughing as he went back in to cover her again. It was like a food fight, both of them trying to get the other back and _laughing_. It was wrong, and disgusting, but Beth was having _fun_. Fun with walker guts. She never thought she'd see the day.

Once they were both satisfactorily covered in blood and guts, their laughter dying off, Beth wiped her hands on the grass and found her knife again. Sobering up, the two turned towards the prison and examined the perimeter.

"We go slow," Daryl instructed. He was back into hunter mode, and his blue eyes were bright with strategy. "You think one of them is starting to get a whiff of us, starts ta notice us, you kill it."

"What if they all turn on us?" Beth asked in a small, worried voice.

Daryl's gaze locked with her's. Blue on blue. Beth felt her heart begin to pick up, and she suspected that it had nothing to do with the impending danger they were facing. He frowned down at her, quirking his lips back and forth, before nodding. "They start to turn on us, ya run. Run as fast and far as 'em chicken legs will carry ya."

"I do not have chicken legs," Beth argued, feeling fire spark in her belly again.

"Don't remind me," Daryl muttered, before shaking his head and starting up towards the prison determinedly.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, knife poised in her fist, Beth followed. They the distance quickly, but once they reached the first clump of walkers, Daryl's pace slowed and he crept around. Beth intimidated him, knees bent and eyes flicking all around them. She felt jerky and her breath was coming in quick pants. She was on edge, anxiety blooming in her chest. She had always counted on Daryl to protect them, but knew that in this situation she would have to worry about herself. The group had no hope of surviving without a few key people - Beth was not one of them. Daryl Dixon, however, _was_.

It was funny how clarity sometimes came at the very worst moments. Beth's eyes focused on the back of his dark head, and she realized that she would do whatever it took to keep the man alive. While her father had been their moral compass, their spiritual guide, Daryl was the muscle and survivalist. He had managed to get them through so many situations, put his neck on the line for them countless times. If it meant that he would get out free, get to her sister and Glenn, Rick and Carl and the rest of them - Beth would sacrifice herself. The sudden realization made her pause, but she shook her head quickly and kept on.

The plan seemed to be working. None of the walkers were paying attention to them - Beth tried not to think about the gunk clinging to her clothes, probably soaking in to her skin. It was just _too_ gross. They were making good time, winding their way through the crowd, and Beth felt an inner victory as they ducked into their old cell block. There were only a few walkers within. Daryl glanced back at her, blue eyes piercing and a small smirk on his lips, as he nodded towards their food rations. Untouched, sitting in one corner.

Beth beamed at the older man. They were inside, they had gotten to their food, and only four walkers stood in their way. Turning her back on Daryl, Beth lunged at the nearest undead and sank her knife into it's temple. She jerked it out, blade dripping onto the concrete floor. She heard the trigger of Daryl's bow as it sent an arrow, and Beth turned to the next roamer. It turned to her, extremely slow, it's hands outstretched and reaching for her. Lip curling in disgust, Beth flung herself at the walker, tackling it down to the ground. It was weak, it hadn't fed in a long time, and she used that to her advantage. Sinking her blade into an eye socket, she felt the body go limp between her thighs. She took a moment to catch her breath, staring at the walker and wiping a hand over her sweaty forehead. She heard Daryl clear his throat, and glanced up in surprise. He was watching her.

"Gettin' decent with that thang," he said, nodding to indicate her knife. Beth shrugged.

"That or death, right?" she asked with a quick shrug. Daryl offered a hand and pulled her up, and the two gazed at each other. There was a spark of something - Beth couldn't identify it - between them, and while she was curious, Daryl seemed quick to dismiss. He broke away from her, dropping her hand like it burned him, and set to securing the large, dark room. The slant of sunlight coming from the skylights did little to illuminate the familiar room. Beth spun around, glancing into the block. The door was flung open, and she was surprised to find it empty.

Taking a breath and steadying herself, Beth stepped into her former home. The thought that she was entering a tomb crossed her mind, but did not stop her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here We Remain**

**by: FrankieLouWho**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Sorry to those who were under the impression I was, you were somehow very mislead.**

**Notes: This came out kind of quickly. Not as long as I like, but at least I got something out that I don't absolutely hate. Things are shifting and changing for this pair, and I'm excited to see where this takes us. Hope you're all still with me after the long hiatus, but I promise it won't be that long again. Thank you for all the support and feedback, please let me know how you feel about this one when you're done! I try to reply to comments as much as I can, but a lot of the time when I recieve them on my phone and it's a pain in my ass. But I still try! Find me on TUMBLR at IDREAMOFFRANKIE - follow me and lets be friends and discuss conspiracy theories about the second half of season four! And other Bethyl related things!**

**Thanks for reading, you guys are amazing :)**

**4**

The first thing Beth did was head to her cell. She sheathed her knife at her hip, tossing back the quilt that hung for privacy, and stepped inside. Everything was just as she had left it, completely undisturbed. Her clothing stacked in a neat pile on the desk, the 'Days Without an Accident' board counting inaccurately. Smiling sadly, she adjusted the numbers back to zero. Her journal was open on her pillow, and her sweater was hanging from the top bunk. Grabbing her knapsack, Beth quickly stuffed a clean set of clothes into it, her journal, and the Polaroid picture that Glenn had taken of herself, Maggie, and their daddy. All of them smiling and embracing for the camera. At the time, Beth had thought it was silly. Now, she held the photograph like something precious. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she ducked out of her bedroom and out into the big hall, where Daryl was waiting with a pained look on his face.

"Want me to grab some of your clothes?" Beth asked. "We're gonna want to change eventually."

Practicality won out, and Daryl nodded, leading the way up the steps to the perch and to the cell he'd claimed. It was sparse, but his belongings were there. Beth turned her back and felt him jam things into the pack, and a small smile graced her face as she heard him mutter under his breath. Together, they went back down and into the big room, where the food supplies were. There wasn't much room left in Beth's bag, but Daryl seemed intent on filling it to the brim. It hung heavy on her shoulders when he was satisfied.

"We still need ammo," Beth pointed out. "Maybe we should stay -"

"Ain't no way we're stayin' here," Daryl cut her off. The dark look in his eyes made Beth resist the urge to argue, instead nodding quickly. "We get some ammo, we're gone."

"All right," Beth said, biting her lip and nodding. She knew he was right, and that it would probably be just as painful - maybe even more - for Daryl to stay where they had lived before. It was a bad idea, she shouldn't have brought it up. But Beth felt a certain pull to the home they had shared for almost a year, not just surviving, but really _living_. She'd had a boyfriend, she'd grown closer to their rag-tag family. But she could understand why Daryl was anxious to leave.

She followed him back down the stairs and to rec room, where they kept a few food supplies and ammo. It would be easier than hunting through the armory, where the heavy artillery was. Beth took to the food as Daryl managed to guns and ammo and weapons - he would know much better than her, anyway. She took a few cans of food, a jug of water, and waiting near the door as Daryl put together what they would need. When he finished, he glanced up at her with a wary look. She could tell that he was almost as excited as she was to face the walkers again.

"Gotta get to the bike," Daryl grunted, and Beth nodded again. She could follow his directions without argument - wasn't like she had any better ideas. Following him had kept them all alive for a while - he was a survivor. Like her sister, like Rick, like Michonne - some people were simply built differently, programmed better, than people like Beth. Maybe not better, she reasoned with herself. Just better at certain things. Daryl could take care of himself, alone in the woods. He could probably do it better alone, but it was obvious that he had no intentions of leaving her behind. He wanted her to pull her weight, sure - but Beth knew that he felt responsible for her. Probably saw her as some helpless little girl. Shaking her head, Beth watched him pull open the door, peeking out to the over-run prison yard.

"Bikes over there, by the fence. Can you manage all that and your knife?" Daryl asked, pointing his crossbow to her bursting knapsack. She nodded solemnly, eyes big as she watched him.

"All right. We're gonna run this time - I don't like the idea of letting them get close enough to touch you," Daryl admitted, and Beth had to smile softly at his worrying.

"I'm real fast," Beth said, beaming at him proudly. "Ran track in high school."

"I bet," Daryl muttered under his breath, and Beth realized he was taking in her long legs. Even in a pair of ratty old jeans - he was checking her out. For some reason, Beth felt a heat sweep the length of her body, settling in her pelvis. She resisted the urge to groan. What the heck was _wrong_ with her? Now was not the time.

The only warning she had was Daryl shoving the door open, and then she was sprinting in the direction he pointed. She dodged quickly around the walkers, praying that he was moving as fast and nimbly as herself. It wasn't long before the bike was in her sight - a flutter of hope sprang in her heart, giving her another burst of energy, legs scissoring like a blur. It was only the surprised shout from behind her that made Beth pause - she twisted around, knocking into a walker that was reaching for her, groaning pathetically. She shoved it away, tumbling it to the ground. Feebly, it tried to get back on it's feet.

Beth's eyes sought Daryl, and she made a distressed noise when she saw him fighting off the walker. It was a big one, had been a large person when it was alive. It's fat rolls were bloated, pale, discolored in other places, and there were bits of flesh and blood hanging from it's mouth and stuck in his chest hair. Grimacing, Beth double back and raised her hunting knife, clutched in her white-knuckled fist. Maybe with too much gusto, Beth pierced it's brain, letting out a shriek of anger. It went limp, and Daryl was pushing the corpse away from him. Beth offered him a hand to pull him up.

"You bit?" she asked, and he shook his head quickly. There was something in his blue gaze that Beth couldn't decipher, but she shook the thought off before turning and running. She was still holding his hand, fingers lacing together as she yanked him behind her. Beth didn't want to chance letting go of him, not when they could get seperated and ambushed. In a matter of seconds, they were reaching the bike. Daryl panted but threw a leg over the bike. Beth followed his lead, adjusting her bag and pulling her legs up as he cranked the engine. The roar was deafening - Beth had forgotten how loud it was. Every walker turned in their direction, smelling and hearing them.

"Go! Go!" Beth cried, curling around Daryl. They were growing closer. The sun was hot on her golden hair and arms as Daryl rode them away from the prison, circling the yard before rushing through the broken fence. He got them to the road before he really hit the gas, flying them far and away. Beth was too amped up to feel the relief of getting in and out, without any bloodshed. However, she felt Daryl's tense muscles relax as she gripped him, and for some reason, her body seemed to follow his lead. She turned her head, watching the back of his head as they sped down the abandoned lane. They'd made it.

Back at the cabin, later that night, Beth was passed out on the bed and Daryl was sitting on the couch. He'd kept his distance, kept quiet, the rest of the day. Didn't know what to say to her - she acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but Daryl could feel that something had shifted between them. Maybe he was losing his damn mind - would make sense that he would finally break. However, glancing at Beth's small, sleeping form under the blankets on the bed, he knew he had to keep it together. At least for her.

It was hard, however. That afternoon at the prison, it felt like he was stepping into a tomb. Felt like there had been too much death, too much blood spilled, to be comfortable there. There were too many memories of people that no longer breathed, no longer lived, for Daryl to be at ease. He'd wanted to get in, get out. When Beth made her way straight to her cell, walking down the floors that they had lived in for almost a year, it was the strangest thing. Strange, because it felt so normal. But stranger because none of the people that they had shared this home with were there. It was empty, and quiet. It felt cold to him.

The thing that was really bothering him, though, was Beth. Well, not so much Beth, but her reaction to what had happened to him. When the walker knocked him down, got him on his back, Daryl hadn't been worried. He knew he would wrangle out of it, get himself out of the situation just like he always did. Sheer dumb luck was mostly to blame, but sometimes Daryl could pull a move out of his ass and get himself free. But when Beth came running back, stabbing the walker straight in the head, he was surprised.

Daryl hadn't expected so much fury to come from such a petite girl.

She'd saved his damn life, and it had been a long time since anyone had done that. He was good at this survival shit, knew how to take care of himself and keep going no matter what. Had to do it a lot as a kid - no one was looking out for him back then. At least, when Merle was away, no one was. And even when Merle was out of juvie or on leave, he was more interested in getting messed up and chasing women to pay much attention to his little brother. Daryl knew his brother loved him, in his own way. But that didn't change the fucked-up history they shared.

When she pulled him up, refusing to release his hand, Daryl had taken a moment to study her. Had it been so long since they first met on her father's farm? She looked grown, in the bright sunlight, slightly sweaty, a little dirty, with her bloody blade and her wild blue eyes. She had flicked her gaze over his body, making him blush and feel unsettled, before asking if he was bit. He wasn't - but something about her asking had knocked him for a loop. Sounded like Rick or Glenn, or even Andrea or Maggie. Daryl realized it was because it was something they asked each other in the heat of the moment, after whatever scuffle or danger went down. Beth had never been part of the action before, and hearing her say those simple words made his gut clench with all kinds of emotions.

He didn't want her to have to fight. She was sweet, innocent, and sensitive - Daryl wished for her to remain that way. It was similar to the way he wanted Carl to retain his childhood, but in this world, that was impossible. Beth had managed to hold onto it longer than anyone, probably, but seeing her doing what was necessary, fighting to keep them both safe... Daryl realized that she was much more grown, had changed a lot, since they first met. Had changed even since they found the prison.

Perhaps she had always been this strong. Maybe she simply needed the chance to show it.

Daryl chewed thoughtfully on the skin around his thumb, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace. He was bone-weary, exhausted, but for some reason his mind was refusing to turn off. Didn't help that all of his thoughts seemed to revolve around the blonde sleeping across the room from him. He was distracted, zoned out, and jumped nearly a foot when he heard her soft, sleepy voice call out to him.

"Daryl? You up?" she asked.

He sighed quietly as his heart slowed to a normal rate. "Yup," he said. He grimaced inwardly at the gruff tone of his voice, but Beth didn't seem to notice - or if she didn't, she didn't care. He heard the sliding of sheets and blankets as she rolled onto her side, facing him.

"You comin' to bed soon?" she asked. For a long moment, Daryl just stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. Since when did they _sleep_ together? They'd only done it once, and he hadn't anticipated it becoming a regular thing. But the offer was too tempting to turn down, especially with his thoughts running wild about her. It was a bad idea, Daryl told himself, even as he stood and began to take off his boots. It was asking for trouble. Playing with fire. He was digging himself a whole, making himself a bed. He didn't know how he would get out of it, but he couldn't resist the longing look in those smokey-blue eyes. The smile on her face as he crawled in across from her, leaving plenty of room between them, was worth the risk. Daryl's heart ached a little as he looked at her in the dim, golden firelight. Shadows fell over her face but she was still beautiful.

"Goodnight," she whispered, snuggling down into the pillow. She was on her stomach, but her head was turned to him. Daryl laid on his back, his head turned to face her as well. He watched as her smile slipped from her face, her breathing evened out. When she was asleep, and had been for a while - Daryl was suspicious by nature, and wanted to make sure she was definitely unconcious - he traced a finger over her temple, threading his fingers through her silky golden hair. It was dirty, but it was still the softest thing he had ever touched. He pushed the hair behind her ear, running his finger over the curve of her lobe, and sighed.

Daryl Dixon was slowly realizing that his feelings for Beth Greene were reaching a dangerous territory. It wasn't just the wrong time, but Daryl was terrified of letting _anyone_ in. But the young girl was chipping away at the wall around his heart. He prayed that he didn't let himself get hurt again. He'd taken just about all the pain in his life that he could handle.


End file.
